The Fourteenth
by Potions for Foxes
Summary: The day is February 13th and Alfred is on his way across the Atlantic. He's ordered roses, chocolate, made reservations at Veeraswarmy and has tickets to a very special performance. He's determined that nothing will ruin his plans, not even Arthur himself
1. Chapter 1

A/N. The accent for the cabbie is the result of a youtube search for "London Accent."

The accent of the woman in the bakery is my attempt at a Cockney accent. I've tried to render the accent correctly, however, phonetics was never my strong point.

As for the teeth, let it be known that British dental vanity might have changed since my parents' last visit (about 18 years ago…). But my dad's part British, so you know, I have ¼ immunity here.

This was written in maybe about an hour all in all. I've started typing oneshots back on the bus from my college and it's about a 40 minute ride so… this was the product of two bus rides and a little bit of dorm writing.

Ideally I'll have the next chapter out before or around Valentine's day but … don't bet on it. Enjoy!

**Chapter One:**

Alfred was grinning. It was the day before Valentine's Day and he had it all planned out. He was currently on a plane (he loved flying), crossing the Atlantic Ocean. _Finally_. Since the incident around Christmas, security at the airports had been even more insane than usual (regardless of the fact that the boy—and he really was only a boy—never went through _American _American security) and he'd nearly missed his flight.

He'd been very lucky to get the flight and time off in the first place. Fortunately he seemed to have an unlimited supply of luck (Alfred crossed his fingers) and Obama was sympathetic. After all, it was Valentine's Day and Barack had plans for that day involving the First Lady.

Alfred wasn't sure if Obama _knew _that the nation he was visiting wasn't … uh female. He snickered at the image of _him_ in a dress. That was… Alfred would be maimed for thinking about it, but fuck it was funny. He'd given Obama a garbled and unclear explanation about gender being a bit different for a nation and stuff. The man gave a dignified nod—he reminded Alfred of Lincoln when he did that—and was silent for a moment.

"Give my best to England and her queen," Obama said, before smiling and returning to paperwork. Alfred figured that was permission enough and that if Obama had somehow missed seeing Arthur during the last meeting, well it wasn't Alfred's business to correct him.

He tapped his fingers on the edge on the chair. The people to the side of him were both asleep and had been for the last couple of hours. Alfred almost envied him. Sleeping during flights would probably help with the jetlag, but _flying_. Even after all the years that had passed since the Wright Brothers, airplanes never failed to thrill him.

He woke up as they were landing. The people next to him, a man and a woman, smiled at him as he stretched. They'd spoken at the start of the flight. He was taking her to Ireland for the week. The man, Even O'Briain, had whispered when she'd fallen asleep that he'd also planned a trip to Paris but _shhh_—it was a surprise.

"Hope you enjoy Ireland," he said as they stood up. The couple smiled and wished him well in London. When the woman's back was turned Evan winked at Alfred and patted his coat pocket, which held a small box-shaped bulge. Alfred's eyes widened and flashed Evan double thumbs-up. He grinned and followed his lady out.

The line at customs was uneventful and rather. This was one of the few places he could make use of his nation status. He grabbed his suitcase from the um… place and was off to hail a cab. He found one surprisingly quickly and managed to confirm scheduled delivery of both the flowers and the chocolates.

"Do you know a good bakery?" Alfred asked the cabbie, suddenly thinking of something. The cabbie nodded gruffly.

"What fohr?"

"Scones," Alfred said smiling guiltily. "I can't cook and my Valentine can't boil water without disaster." The older man grinned and turned on a side street.

"You from acrohss the Pohnd?"

Alfred thought for a while. Pond. Yes. Atlantic Ocean.

"Yep!" he said, with another smile. "I'm from America."

The cabbie nodded. "Lohng di'stance relationship, then?"

Alfred nodded. Well, at least it would be if all went well. Though with the tickets to Much Ado About Nothing, he didn't see how Arthur would manage to resist him.

"Here's the bakery, you want me to wait out fohr you?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," Alfred said with another grin. He ducked out of the cab and walked into the bakery. It was warm and slightly humid. Alfred breathed in deeply. It smelled good—like home and childhood. He smiled, content, before looking for the scones. Arthur always loved scones. He just couldn't make them (edible). He'd appreciate this, unless of course Arthur actually _liked _his scones and wasn't just being stubborn about Alfred's offers to help with the cooking.

"Whut 'ill it be for you, sir?" the woman behind the counter asked. Alfred grinned at her and she giggled and blushed. "Amer'ih'kin, ahre you?"

Alfred blinked. He didn't think he was wearing anything that would define him as American before he even opened his mouth. (He'd left the Inspi(red) American flag shirt at home, as not to antagonize Arthur.)

"How did you know?" he asked. The woman blushes.

"You 'ave pur'fect teeth," and she smiled revealing her own teeth—which weren't hideous but… well they definitely weren't the teeth of the average American.

"Erm, thank you," Alfred said. "I'd like some scones, for tomorrow's breakfast."

"Whut kind o' scones?"

"Surprise me—ah, whatever you think is best, I'm buying for my British friend," Alfred said. He always felt the need to explain these things. Ever since he'd tried to give Arthur the bacon flavored scones (which he had found delicious and England had called an abomination).

"Righ't then," the woman said, selecting a few scones with the tongs. "'ow men-y 'ill you be wantin'?"

"Enough for breakfast, a dozen?" Alfred was just guessing at this point. Plus, he could eat the scones for another breakfast if he managed to stay over longer than planned.

"'ere you ahre then," the women said, handing Alfred the bag. He gave her his credit card because he'd forgotten, again, to get his money exchanged.

The rest of the drive to Arthur's London house was uneventful. The cabbie didn't seem too interested in Alfred, unlike the Chinese cabbies that would talk your ear off, determined to learn English. Soon they were in the familiar neighborhood. Alfred sighed. Even though he wasn't a colony anymore, this place always felt like coming home.

He tipped the cabbie and grabbed his suitcase and bag o' scones. As the cabbie pulled away, Alfred breathed deeply before a grin split across his face and he bounded up the path to bang on England's front door.

Before he could yell at Arthur for being a slow old man, the door was wrenched open.

"Sorry! Just on my way—what the fuck are you _doing_ here?" Arthur yelled his face going from apologetic to irritated in a span of seconds.

"HI ARTHUR! I'm staying with you for the weekend, just thought I'd stop in and say hello to my favorite former overlord," Alfred said cheerfully. He grinned at Arthur. Arthur sighed and for the first time Alfred noticed that he too was carrying a suitcase.

"I'm your only former colonizer," Arthur mutters before sighed again and looking up. "You can't—"

"Not true! What about France?"

Arthur scowled at the mention of his arch-nemesis, which despite Prussia's advances would always be Francis. Always.

"Still you can't stay here," Arthur said, his eyes darted from side to side. "See that's the car and I'm not letting you in this house unsupervised."

"But—" Alfred protested. Arthur was ruining his plans. Then an idea popped into his head. "I'll just have to come with you then!"

"No, no, no," Arthur said, but Alfred knew his resolve was weakening. "This weekend was supposed to be _relaxing_, and if you're there…"

"I can be relaxing," Alfred said. "Look, the car's already here, so you might as well…"

"Alfred be reasonable," Arthur said, glancing at the car. He didn't want to make the man wait. "I only reserved a single room…"

"No problem," Alfred said cheerfully taking Arthur's suitcase and hoisting it over his shoulder. "I'll take the floor."

"Alfred," Arthur protested weakly. "Can't you just go home?"

Alfred turned around gave Arthur a sad, sad face. "Please?"

Arthur winced. And he hesitated. He bit his lip. And then.

"Fine, you can come—"

"YES!! THANK YOU ARTHUR THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!"

"But only if you promise not to be annoying and I am not sleeping on the floor, you got that? And none of…" Arthur trailed off. Alfred was already at the car, chatting with the driver and loading the suitcases. He sighed. This was going to be a long, long weekend.

**Fin.**


	2. Chapter 2

This is a slight colab between me and kittyebony13. She did some editing on my England, just to make him nice and tsundere for y'all. Ack! I'm watching the mens short track speed skating. Apollo Ohno is scary fast. AHH! He waits till the last moment and AHHHHG. I love the Olympics. And speed skating. I love this!

Anyways, this is posted for V-day! Have fun you guys!!

---

Arhur sighed and looked at the window as the London houses and buildings began to thin. This weekend... he'd been planning it for a while and now Alfred had ruined it. Sure it's not like his former colony had meant to, but Alfred's mere presence—Arthur sighed again. Alfred just wasn't someone you could relax around. He always had to be doing something, otherwise he got bored and that was always bad. The last time Alfred had gotten bored, he'd started the French and Indian War.

Arthur didn't like to think of the chain of events.

Which was another reason this whole sodding weekend wasn't going to be relaxing.

That and it was Valentine's Day tomorrow. _Valentine's Day_. And he was spending it with Alfred Jones. Not that he hadn't thought of that before this, though he'd always fantasized about something like this happening—but not in this way. No, his dreams of a romantic getaway weekend with Alfred had always included the other man being _aware _that it was a romantic getaway and not, not whatever the hell Alfred thought this was.

What did Alfred think this weekend was anyways?

Arthur glanced over at the American. He was asleep. Jetlagged, probably and yet still, somehow, utterly and heartbreakingly beautiful.

He looked so damn innocent asleep like this and Arthur almost felt wrong about thinking about Alfred like that, but, but Alfred _wasn't _that innocent. He'd proved that on several occasions and Arthur _wasn't_ France. He didn't just want to use Alfred's body for one (or several) night(s) of sex. He wanted to wake up next to Alfred, look at his sleeping form for however long it took Alfred to wake up, and when Alfred fixed his blue eyes on him and smiled…

In short, Arthur was completely in love with Alfred.

It wasn't something that many people knew. That stupid frog kept making comments, but France made comments about everything. And every_one_.

Still the main point was that Alfred didn't know and Arthur wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Sure, it meant that he wouldn't get teased or rejected—or God, what if Alfred thought he was _joking?_ It didn't bear thinking about. Though, just to know that Alfred had no idea that he felt like this… it hurt.

Alfred yawned and Arthur looked away quickly. He didn't want to be caught staring or anything. He wasn't some creepy stalker like France, who probably got off on sneaking peeks at showering countries or smelling underwear. Arthur shuddered at the thought of France, with that evil, evil smirk, sniffing poor, oblivious and quite unsuspecting Spain's underwear. Ack! That was disturbing. France was generally disturbing.

"Oi," Alfred said rubbing his eyes and bleakly blearily at Arthur. "Are we there yet?"

Arthur sighed in irritation and looked away. He didn't want to see if Alfred was smiling. It just… it wouldn't be the same at all

"No," Arthur said shortly and hoped that would be the end of that.

"Do they have wireless where we're going?"

Arthur winced at the 'we.'

"Yes," he hissed. Wireless would be a distraction but it wasn't like there were many places that _didn't _have that infernal signal anymore, damn it.

"Good," Alfred said and grinned at Arthur when Arthur actually looked at him. "I need it for … um, work and uh, stuff."

"I didn't ask, you twat," Arthur snapped, surprised as to why Alfred was explaining. It wasn't like work was something that he should have to feel guilty about. Arthur sighed again. There was just something tiring about Alfred, especially when he was like this. The boy yawned again.

"When are we going to get there?" he asked, looking at Arthur as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. Arthur's heart clenched. He swallowed hard. He looked out the window at the moors. He couldn't look at Alfred's open blue eyes (so wide and big, they were so easy, too easy to drown in) for very long.

"You didn't have to come," he said-- grumbled, more like.

"I know," Alfred said brightly, taking Arthur's hand. "But I wanted to."

Arthur yanked his hand away, and rubbed it, fighting a blush. He glared at Alfred. He didn't have to touch him all the time. Wasn't it enough just to be the most beautiful country in existence?

"But no, seriously," Alfred said, completely ignoring Arthur's reaction. Arthur squinted at him. It was times like these when he began to wonder if Alfred didn't _know_ what he was doing_._ It was too much like flirting, only Alfred didn't get mad in the slightest when Arthur rejected him like that. Which meant that Alfred was playing him. ...Only there wasn't a deceptive bone in Alfred's body and if he knew Arthur liked him, that would require perception and the ability to read people, something that Alfred _lacked_.

"Hell-lo? Arthur," Alfred said waving his hand in front of Arthur's face. "You there?"

"Huh...? Oh, what?"

"Weren't talking to any of your imaginary friends were you?" Alfred asking, teasing smile dancing on his face. Arthur blushed and looked to the side. He hated it when his stupid sodding face gave him away like that.

"No," he said, crossing his arms. He shouldn't be letting Alfred affect him like this. Especially since he was spending the weekend with him. Oh God, the _entire weekend_. It was going to be torture.

"Just day dreaming then?" Alfred asked and Arthur nodded. What were they talking about again? "So when are we going to get there?"

"Oh," Arthur said and looked out the window again. They should be getting to the house soon. "Not too much longer. It's just in the next borough."

Alfred looked at him, confused. "Huh," the younger country said. "So... soon then?"

"Yeah," Arthur said. "Go back to sleep, you tosser."

The rest of the ride was silent until they arrived in the spa house. Arthur winced when they drove through the gates. Just what he needed. Alfred was going to mock him for attending a spa because he was so old and it was obvious it was for his nerves—which was untrue. He just wanted somewhere to escape the cursed holiday. His house was too barking big to do that properly and he didn't want to be alone.

Well, it looked like he'd gotten his wish-- in a backhanded way. Not only was he not spending the weekend alone, but he was spending it with Alfred.

"So," Alfred said, definitely having read the sign. "What do you have planned for the weekend here?"

Arthur glowered and looked away again. He hated that he had no other recourse for avoiding Alfred. Truth be told he didn't have anything planned, just hiding away in his rooms and getting drunk. The latter part of the plan was now out of the question. There was no way he was getting drunk around Alfred. Who knew what damning things might come out of his mouth like that?

"Not much," Arthur answered, in lieu of all that, because there was no way in hell he was explaining _that_ to _Alfred_.

"Oh," Alfred said. He paused. "I'm sure we could find something to do." He paused again, as if remembering something. "But you definitely don't have plans for tomorrow night, right?"

"No," Arthur snapped and glared at Alfred. Did he really have to confirm that Arthur was lame and loveless this holiday? Was it really necessary? His teeth ground together, and his fingers flexed.

"Good," Alfred said and Arthur felt like strangling him. "Because I know this great place we can eat." He caught sight of the look on Arthur's face. "That is, if you want to go out with me."

"To dinner," Arthur said incredulously.

"Yeah," Alfred said easily. "You know, just dinner and then maybe something else. Only it's in London, so dunno." He grinned at Arthur. "We'll see what you feel like in the morning."

"Morning, um, sure," Arthur said, not really knowing what he was agreeing to. Just what was Alfred playing at? He couldn't be this oblivious. No one was this oblivious-- well, except Spain. Spain had settled parts of America, too, hadn't he? Damn him. The whole world was full of bloody wankers doing their best to mess with his Alfred-- a thought that sent a pang straight to his heart.

The car pulled to a stop and the driver got out. Alfred leapt out as well, offering Arthur a hand (which he refused) and grabbing several bags. "Let's go see the rooms, Iggy."

Arthur glared, painful thoughts forgotten. Stupid Japan. Still, it _was_ (slightly) better than Eyebrows.

"Come on, then," Arthur said, grabbing the remaining bag. He walked into the building as Alfred held the door open (but that was only because he didn't have the reservations, and not for any other reason. It couldn't be).

"Arthur Kirkland," Arthur said when he reached the front desk. "I made reservations."

The woman nodded and clicked a few buttons on the computer. She handed him the keys to the room and a brochure. "I see you found a date," she said, gesturing at Alfred, who was standing off to the side and grinning like an idiot. Arthur blushed and muttered something about it not really being a date. The woman still wouldn't _stop smiling!_

"You're lucky," she whispered. "He's hot."

Arthur growled. Yes, he knew damn well that Alfred was completely out of his league. He didn't need random people rubbing it in his face.

"Second floor," the woman said, ignoring his reaction. "Right on your left, five doors down, turn right and it's the second door to your left."

"Thank you," Alfred said brusquely. He grabbed the keys from her outstretched hand and jerked his head at Alfred. "Come on, you wanker, I'm tired."

Alfred was surprisingly subdued when they got to the room. He was on his phone the instant he set his bags down and quickly went out on the rose-covered terrace-- and he was just making a business call to his boss or something, so that was a bit weird.

Even though Alfred was trying to be quiet, Arthur could still make out works. Like: "I don't care" and "Don't worry about expense" and "The local ones won't have anything!"

It sounded like it was a strange call, but who knew? It was _Alfred_. Arthur sighed and collapsed on to the bed. It was soft and warm and he was _so tired_.... He closed his eyes for a second and was drifting off to sleep before he knew it.

"Hey," a voice said, as large hands held his shoulders.

Arthur squirmed away. He didn't want to wake up. Alfred had almost been about to…

"Arthur," he said again, glistening in the spray of the shower. "Wake up, I brought you dinner."

Wait! That didn't fit. Arthur blinked. Why was sexy, naked Alfred trying to get him to wake up and eat dinner?

"Arthur," Alfred whined, and it really wasn't sexy. Arthur sighed and opened his eyes. Only to find himself face to face with the _real_ Alfred (instead of the sexy, wet, naked one). Fuck.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur demanded, trying to sit up, but Alfred's strong (sexy) hands stopped him.

"Hey," he said, "Don't do that you'll knock over the plate of dinner."

"Wot?" Arthur replied intelligently.

"What kind of hero would I be if I let Sleeping Beauty go hungry?" Alfred asked, grinning. "So I brought you up dinner. Don't worry, I already ate."

"I'm not a bloody princess," Arthur muttered, crossing his arms. He stared at the plate of food. Alfred was lying. In front of him was a bowl of beef stew along with several bowls and a pat of butter. He blinked. That was—this was awfully nice of Alfred.

"Thank you," Arthur said. Alfred grinned. There was nothing that fool loved more than helping people (even if they didn't need or want it) and being praised for it. The soup wasn't even cold.

"Hey, scoot over," Alfred said, as he flopped down onto the bed next to Arthur.

"Don't get too comfortable there," Arthur snapped. He couldn't handle sleeping in the same bed as Alfred. No, that would be _intensely_ embarrassing in the morning.

"I know, I know," Alfred said. He grinned at Arthur. "I just want to watch the Opening Ceremonies." He flipped on the TV. "Mattie's hosting them this year, so that's where I'm going to be next week, you know, if you want to come over and support your teams and all…"

Arthur had no idea how to respond to that. He'd planned on avoiding the games. His country didn't stand a chance of winning. Though, America would be there (along with pretty much everyone else).

"Are you asking me to the games?" Arthur asked suspiciously. Just to make sure, and _no_, his heart did _not_ feel rather light at the moment. It was Alfred-- it meant nothing.

"Well, yes, I guess I am," Alfred said, channel surfing until he landed on one that was broadcasting the Olympics. "It's going to be so awesome!"

Arthur sighed and his stomach growled. Regardless of Alfred's strange behavior (_jetlag,_ it was the _jetlag_), he was hungry. He began eating the stew. It was good hearty English food. He sighed. He might as well enjoy this version of Alfred while it lasted. The morning… the morning would be hell.

**Fin.**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

Sorry, this is getting a bit late. Thanks to kittyebony13 for editing my England. I swear I'm going to finish this soon. All they have is dinner and the "movie."

**Chapter three**

Alfred awoke bright and early to his phone's alarm (America, the Beautiful—because it was never too early for some patriotism). He grinned and dressed quickly in simple clothes. Jeans, a red t-shirt with a heart on it, and a black tie with red writing on it (words like LOVE, and ADORED, and DESIRED, and RESPECTED).

He heated the scones up in the microwave and arranged them on a large plate, with the butter, jam, and marmalade (gotta love room service), and two knives. He brushed his hair and then his teeth, rinsing with Listerine and ACT because white teeth require constant maintenance.

He grinned and knocked on England's door, not really expecting an answer. He didn't hear anything and opened the door—or tried to. The bastard locked the door. Alfred swore and set the plate the down on the side table. The lock wouldn't stop him for long. He pulled out a lock pick and fiddled with the door. Nothing. Damn. So much for the French approach.

Instead the American whipped out an old ID card and slid it in between the door and the lock. The door popped open. He'd have to remember to thank Hungary for that tip. She was brilliant. Though he really didn't want to know how or why she knew that or what she used it for…

Alfred picked up the tray and entered the room.

"Rise and shine," Alfred said grinning. Arthur was cocooned up in the sheets, nothing visible but his mop of mousy brown hair. Alfred grinned and set the platter of breakfast scones on the bedside table. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Arthur," he crooned, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Get up."

The English man rolled over. Alfred sighed and run his fingers through Arthur's hair. The sleeping man sighed and turned toward Alfred. He smiled and happily buried his fingers in the Brit's hair. This was rather nice. Too bad the awake Arthur would protest and squirm away.

"Al…fred," Arthur murmured. Alfred froze. Was Arthur waking up? "Don' stop." Alfred frowned. Was Arthur actually awake or was he just dreaming? He couldn't tell. Though if Arthur was dreaming… Alfred grinned wickedly.

"You like that?" he said, leering at the sleeping country as he runs his fingers through Arthur's hair.

"Mmm," Arthur said. "Alfred." His whole body twisted and arched up. Alfred raised his eyebrows. Just what was Arthur dreaming of? Arthur's eyes blinked open and for one moment he stared at Alfred, lovely green eyes completely unguarded. It was beautiful. Alfred's breathe caught in his throat. He couldn't look away.

"What the fuck?! What are you _doing?_" Arthur yelled, blushing and glaring at Alfred. He sighed. There goes the moment, he thought.

"I got breakfast," Alfred said brightly. "Scones?"

Arthur sputtered. "What?"

"That's right," Alfred said cheerfully. "I got you breakfast." He moved so Arthur could see the platter of scones and such. "Yeah?" He grinned at Arthur, waiting for his reaction and approval. "You like?"

"I don't know what to say," Arthur muttered. He crossed his arms and glared. "Aren't you at least going to let me get dressed first?" He kept his eyebrows lowered at Alfred.

"Maybe," Alfred said, still grinning. "What me to leave?"

Arthur looked like that would be something he would appreciate. "I'd like to get dressed."

"Speaking of which," Alfred said, still grinning. This was going to be the best Valentine's Day ever. Especially since he was with Arthur. That made everything better and he'd slept for _nine straight glorious hours._ He pulled out a shirt from one of his favorite stores. "This is for you."

He thrust the red shirt at Arthur. "Go ahead, put it on."

Arthur shook out the shirt. It read "Ado(red)." He gave Alfred a long-suffering look. "You can't be serious."

"It's Valentine's Day," Alfred said defensively. "Plus, it's for a good cause!"

Arthur just rolled his eyes. The shirt was absolutely ridiculous. Alfred grinned at him. He cut open a scone and offered half to Arthur. "Jam, butter, or marmalade?"

Breakfast was a hit. Aside from the part where Arthur spilled marmalade on his bare chest and Alfred tried to get it off with his finger. Arthur had flinched away and nearly upset the plat of scones. Alfred had gotten a scolding and lecture on manners. Aside from that, it had worked perfectly.

Alfred sighed. He was outside waiting for the flowers and chocolates to arrive. The florist hadn't been happy about the reroute and was charging Alfred an arm and a leg for the drive out to wherever the hell Arthur had decided to stay. Still anything for Arthur. This day _had_ to be perfect. The man with the chocolates arrived first and Alfred took them and thanked him. He'd paid in advance for those, but still he tipped the delivery man and wished him a happy Valentine's Day. The man had muttered and left.

He sighed again, holding the chocolate box, and looking down the driveway. He heard a squeal of tires and then the sound of screeching breaks. He looked up sharply. A large white van bounced down the curved driveway of the resort. It skidded to a sliding stop in front of Alfred and a short, young boy hopped out.

"Roses, for an Alfred Jones?" the boy said, looking around. Alfred leapt up and handed the boy a hundred dollar bill. The boy looked at it and kept his hand out. Alfred sighed and added a fifty. Hopefully that was enough.

"Thank you!" the boy chirruped and darted back to the van, as if he hadn't just overcharged Alfred. (Not that Alfred had any smaller bills, but still… greedy little brat).

Armed with the chocolates and roses, Alfred made his way up the stairs to knock on Arthur's door. There was no answer. He sighed and knocked again.

"Arthur," Alfred yelled, setting the gifts down to pound on the door. "Open up, dammit."

No response. Alfred kicked the door and glared. Seriously, it was as if Arthur was trying to sabotage his efforts. Stupid, sexy Brit. He slid down to sit by the door. He'd just have to wait for Arthur then. A door opened. Alfred looked up. It was the door across the hall. Damn.

"Keep it down out there," A man said, his head poking out of the door. Alfred glared and sighed, blowing his hair out of his face.

"Fine," he muttered, not looking that the man. The man's head disappeared suddenly as he was jerked back inside and the door slammed shut.

Alfred sighed. Better face the facts, he'd been ditched. Fuck, he didn't even know if Arthur was in the room asleep or just ignoring him or if he was off doing something spa-like. He'd probably planned the weekend as a way to relax or something. Stupid Brit. Didn't he know that America, chocolate, and roses would make everything better?

He could've just stayed in London and everything would have been perfect. But no, no Arthur had to make stupid plans. Arthur sighed again and closed his eyes. There was nothing to do here, besides wait for England and he'd gotten enough of that during his colonial days. He sighed again and curled up against the door. He pulled out his iPhone and downloaded a solitaire app. Might as well _do_ something while he waited for Arthur to arrive.

It felt like an eternity before Alfred heard footsteps coming down the hall. He looked up and finally, _finally_, saw Arthur coming down the hall. His heart raced and he leapt up, grabbing the chocolates and bouquet, hiding them behind his back.

"Arthur!" he shouted and the older country winced, slightly speeding up his walk. Though it was probably to make Alfred shut up quicker than what Alfred really wanted. The Brit was blushing… that, now that was a good sign. Maybe he did have a chance. Ah, who was he kidding? He had tickets to the Globe Theater, of course he had a chance!

"Shut up, you git!" Arthur hissed, swiftly approaching. "There are people who don't want to be disturbed."

Alfred just grinned and thrust the rose and chocolates at Arthur. "I got you something."

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. He was speechless. His face and the tips of his ears turned bright red as Alfred grinned wildly. This was perfect.

"Y-you, you, you got me _flowers?!_" Arthur said incredulously. Alfred grinned and nodded. This was going perfectly.

"Of course, it's Valentine's Day," he said cheerfully. "I also got you chocolates."

Arthur stared at the heart-shaped box as if he really couldn't believe it was there. He shook his head and pinched himself. Alfred just grinned. Arthur was still bright red and look amazing in the red shirt. Too bad it was too casual for dinner tonight, because Arthur was most definitely adored.

"And you got me chocolates too," Arthur said, looking around at anything but Alfred. Alfred's grin widened. Normally, Arthur would have made some snarky remark by now; however, France had been right. The Englishman really was a hopeless romantic at heart. Not that Alfred really needed help to figure that one out. For all that Arthur boasted of his male writers (the Bard, Wilde), he was still known for things like Austen and the Bronte sisters.

"I—I can't believe you," Arthur said finally, taking the gifts with trembling hands. "You didn't get me those cheap American chocolates, did you?" Arthur's voice was almost hopeful. Alfred sighed, mentally. Of course, Arthur was never comfortable unless he had something to criticize. Too bad for him Alfred had planned everything perfectly. After all, he'd been a French colony before he'd been British.

"Nope," Alfred chirruped. "Those are English chocolates." He pointed to the roses. "And you wouldn't believe how hard red-and-white roses are to find around Valentine's Day." The fact took a moment to sink in.

"You didn't," Arthur said, stunned. His face was still bright red. "You don't—you're horrible at history."

"Virginia's _named_ after her, makes her hard to forget," Alfred responded. He'd spent hours on Wikipedia trying to remember that stupid virgin queen whose symbol was roses. All he had to go off of was the vague memories of Arthur telling him stories about the War of The Roses.

"You _remembered?_ I mean actually _remembered?_" Arthur leaned against the door for support. "The Tudor rose." Alfred grinned. Right, that thing. Elizabeth was it? Or James? One of the two.

"Yep," Alfred chirruped brightly. "I totally remembered."

"Well, I—I don't know what to say," the blushing Brit finally managed. "Thank you." He reached forward and hugged Alfred. Alfred's eyes widened. He must've hit the jackpot for Arthur to _hug_ him. He never showed affection like this.

Arthur was reeling. Of all the things he expected from his former colony _this _was not it. The flowers—roses!—and then the chocolates. Alfred had even remembered the War of the Roses and the resulting Tudor rose. Perhaps he'd mentioned his dislike of purely red (or white) roses when Alfred was a colony or (and he felt like this was giving Alfred too much credit but hell) he'd come to the conclusion that Arthur didn't like being reminded of the divide on his own.

All this on Valentine's day, to boot. Arthur was surprised he wasn't melting already as it was, but then each of his attempts at sarcasm and snark were turned away. It… it really seemed like Alfred cared about him and had genuinely thought this venture through. But it couldn't be. This was Alfred. He never thought things through, ever. All he could do was hug Alfred to hide his blush and his clouding eyes—allergies! From the roses! Not because he was touched by Alfred's gesture or anything like that.

"You have the keys to the room?" Alfred asked when they broke apart. He was smiling gently too. It wasn't one of his stupid Look At Me grins either--no, this was a much less conscious smile. It was more genuine and, Arthur thought, much more beautiful than Alfred's more common grins and smiles.

"Uh," he said eloquently. "Yes, keys, I have those." He fumbled around in his pockets for the key to the rooms. Dammit! Roses or no roses, Alfred shouldn't be able to affect him like this. It was—it was unbecoming, that's what it was. He was England! He'd been an empire. There was no need for him to react this way to what had once been his colony. (Regardless of the fact that Alfred was now a world superpower, he'd still practically raised the kid, and this was _no way to react._)

"So," Alfred said as Arthur tried to open the door. He was leaning close and Arthur could practically feel his heat and dense presence. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner tonight, my treat."

Arthur paused. Hang on. What?

"That would depend on what you had in mind," he said, in a measured voice. No need to overreact, Alfred was probably just inviting him to McDonald's or something like that and he'd just refuse him politely and that would be all. It had to be all.

"It's this Indian food place, in London," Alfred began and Arthur froze. This wasn't going the way it should. Alfred placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur forgot about the key and the lock and the door. His ears went pink.

"Does it have a name?" he finally managed. At least he was sounding somewhat intelligent. Good--that was progress.

"Veeraswamy," Alfred said and Arthur could just hear the smile in his voice. It was that stupid smile that made it clear that Alfred knew he had done well, but still wanted praise, and dammit he was _right_ too.

"Veeraswamy," Arthur repeated, fighting the urge to turn around and look at Alfred. This was just a dream. A stupid and detailed dream and he was going to wake up and Alfred would be offering him donuts or burgers.

"Yep! Oldest Indian restaurant in London," he said proudly and Arthur felt like crying. His crush on the younger country had been unbearable before, but now that Alfred was being so damn nice and thoughtful too...! This was torture. Forget about the Iron Maiden and the Rack. This was a thousand times worse.

"And after that," Arthur said weakly. Maybe this was all a joke. "What do you have planned after that?"

Alfred was silent and Arthur prayed that he didn't have anything planned after that and that he'd just counted on winging it or something.

"Well, I think there's a show you wouldn't mind seeing," Alfred said slowly and Arthur really did turn around then. The stupid yank was smiling—still!—and it was a sneaky smile.

"Oh, really now?" Arthur asked skeptically, thinking quickly. "What show?"

Aflred's smile grew and Arthur felt his stomach drop. Out of panic, dammit, not because that smile was so sexy!

"It's a surprise."

There. That wasn't perfect. Arthur hated surprises. He hated not knowing what was going to happen—especially when Alfred kept smiling like that.

"Well, then, surprise me," Arthur said, looking around desperately. This wasn't happening, he wasn't going to get talked into going, but if Alfred didn't tell him, he wouldn't really have a choice.

"Wait and see," Alfred said, leaning in. Arthur couldn't think clearly anymore. "Go to dinner with me and find out? Please, Arthur?"

He should just look away and ignore Alfred (serve him right for bringing surprises into it), but those damn eyes and he said 'please.' It'd been so long since Alfred had asked nicely for something. But no! He was England, he must be strong. Alfred wasn't even using his puppy eyes… yet.

Still, even when he'd been an empire, he hadn't been able to refuse Alfred anything (which was probably why he wasn't an empire anymore). This was no different.

"What time should we leave?" Arthur asked, turning back to open the door with a sigh. He stepped in and was halfway to his room before Alfred caught him in a strong hug.

"SWEET!" he yelled as Arthur yelped in surprise and tried to struggle out of Alfred's grasp. He didn't like being touched and _now_ Alfred was hugging him from behind! Despite what France said about him being a 'sexually deprived island' he wasn't arching and moaning as that wonton frog would be doing in this position.

Arthur didn't like to admit how close he was to just doing that. The feeling of Alfred's strong arms wrapped around him and his firm heavy weight pushing against his smaller body, not to mention Alfred's hard peninsula gently prodding him—hang on. Arthur gave an undignified yelp and struggled away. There. Was. No. Way! Alfred didn't think of him like that! His own colony... AHHHH! This was all France's fault! He should've never let that frog within three states of Alfred! Never!

Arthur glared at Alfred, panting slightly. This was…well this certainly put a new twist on things. Alfred was staring at him now, completely oblivious to what Arthur had just felt…he blushed at the thought (of what might have happened without clothes, a smug voice added).

"You," he said, pointing a finger at Alfred who looked very surprised. "Are incorrigible." He figured that Alfred wouldn't know that he used the word incorrectly or what it meant to begin with.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I'm incorrigible? What about you?"

Arthur panicked, before realizing that this was nothing more than an advanced game of 'I know you are but what am I.' Alfred just wanted to get in his pants and this was all an elaborate ploy… It didn't mean anything. He ignored the painful twinge in his heart.

"Yes, yes you are," Arthur said haughtily. He straightened his sweater. "Now I'm going to go shower and dress for the evening. Ta!" and with that he walked into his room and locked the door, completely ignoring the look on Alfred's face.

Once out of Alfred's sight, Arthur sighed and crumpled to the floor. If this whole thing was just a well thought out plan to get into his pants then… And he'd bought it too, the flowers and chocolates, and dinner and the surprise…

Arthur groaned. He really must be reading too many romance novels for his own good if he could be played_ this_ easily. He just didn't expect Alfred to be capable of things like this. He sighed again. He'd completely fallen for this, head over heels. How pathetic. How very, very pathetic, and how very, very far he'd fallen.

Still, regardless of this new development, Alfred wasn't patient and he definitely wasn't calculating. How many times had Arthur lectured Alfred on just that? Alfred was notoriously bad at hiding his motives. If sex was what Alfred really wanted, why would he go through all this trouble? (He'd probably just show up on his doorstep, condom bouquet in hand). Unless, he didn't want sex at all and this was just some cleverly designed ploy to humiliate Arthur…

Alfred. Clever plan. Not, not just a clever plan but a _cleverly disguised_ plan.

First off, there was no way Alfred would be able to come up with something like that. Secondly, even if he had help, Alfred--being Alfred-- would somehow manage to ruin it.

Which left an even more worrying option.

Alfred was wooing him _and_ wanted him sexually.

Arthur sighed and buried his face in his hands. That was a disturbing prospect. Not that he hadn't dreamed about it, but still… now that it might be happening…

God, he was being wooed by his former colony. This was so embarrassing.

Outside of the room, Alfred pulled a pack of gum out of his pocket. Mint flavored. Excellent. He unwrapped a piece and popped it in his mouth.

_Fin_.


End file.
